


The five times Enjolras kissed Combeferre and the one time Combeferre kissed him

by finnicks



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Oops, Teenagers, this was supposed to be short but got long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnicks/pseuds/finnicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They had been best friends since they were fifteen and had met in biology. Combeferre was shorter then and didn’t wear his glasses when he was supposed to. Enjolras was busy being angry at the world most of the time and usually sulked through all of his classes. The two were paired merely by chance but the minute they started grudgingly talking Enjolras knew Combeferre was special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The five times Enjolras kissed Combeferre and the one time Combeferre kissed him

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be short but became long. I JUST HAVE A LOT OF E/C FEELS OK.
> 
> please enjoy. as usual written in the wee hours of the night. if you see anything awful and will not rest again until it's fixed hmu
> 
> okay some reasoning: in my mind teen!Enjolras is kind of spoiled and whiny and has anger issues. teen!Combeferre is insecure, kind of nerdy, and thinks he knows everything. Mind you, this is before they grow up into beautiful revolutionaries.

They had been best friends since they were fifteen and had met in biology. Combeferre was shorter then and didn’t wear his glasses when he was supposed to. Enjolras was busy being angry at the world most of the time and usually sulked through all of his classes. The two were paired merely by chance but the minute they started grudgingly talking Enjolras knew Combeferre was special.

He had grown up in a relatively happy, hospitable home; he was an avid reader and loved all things pertaining to knowledge and learning. Enjolras admired Combeferre’s calm, yet not impassionate, sense of wonder for the world and most things in it. He revered Combeferre’s seemingly set-in-stone morals and the rigorous code by which he abided.

Unlike most people who met Enjolras, Combeferre could tell that Enjolras’ anger did not come from misanthropy but a burning desire for change. He knew Enjolras didn’t hate humanity, he merely didn’t know how to express his scorching passions without burning everything he touched. Consequently, Enjolras was known for the trouble he got into around and after school; vandalizing, writing angry speeches, and generally disturbing the peace.

However Combeferre found himself unknowingly drawn to Enjolras’ burning passion. It was… exciting, for lack of a better word, it was like the excitement one might feel when exposing oneself to open flame.

Enjolras was an instinctive leader but Combeferre was a guide; as the two awkwardly navigated the waters of new friendship they discovered that Combeferre completed and corrected Enjolras, his calm knowledge aided and stabilized Enjolras’ righteous impulses.

They fell together like soul mates written in a Shakespearean play; two whose spirits had walked together in a past life or many past lives. It was easy and the friendship came naturally, they often went to Enjolras’ house and did homework or simply lay around and talked. Or didn’t. It was easy for them to be silent together, as easy as it was for them to talk or text into the early morning hours. On occasion Combeferre would appear at Enjolras’ house and not say a word; he would flop into Enjolras’ bed, as Enjolras sat at his desk, and work on whatever school project he was working on, each enjoying the other’s silent, comfortable company.

Over the months of their friendship the two had grown accustomed to touching, mostly casually. They leaned on each other literally as well as metaphorically; brushing into each other in the hallways, flopping on top of each other on couches.

In their small group of friends after everyone went home it was always the two of them who were left alone in the dark pouring over essays or speeches or sometimes maps.

“I promise one day we’ll go to all these places,” Combeferre would say, tracing the lines of cities written in the old maps they had found in Enjolras’ attic.

“But we have to come back, ‘Ferre.” Enjolras sat close by his side; he rested his chin on Combeferre’s shoulder, gazing down at the yellowed paper. “We have to come back and fix this town.”

And Combeferre would agree and lean into Enjolras, feeling safer and more content than he ever had before with Enjolras’ breathing on his neck and his heartbeat against his back.

Most people probably assumed they were dating, the two didn’t really care. Ever since Enjolras had become friends with Combeferre his outbursts of anger seemed to diminish, only flaring up when he was really upset. And Combeferre didn’t really care what people thought of him, Enjolras’ proud indifference seemed to be rubbing off on him. He started wearing his glasses more often.

The first time was the beginning of their senior year in high school, it began with an innocent question proposed by Enjolras. “Want to go see The Great Gatsby on Friday, ‘Ferre?”

“Hm, okay.” Combeferre answered. They went to the movies often, mainly because it was one of the only things to do in their small, somewhat uneventful town.

So they went. As per usual Enjolras got popcorn and they shared it while the trailers played. A quarter through the movie Enjolras flipped up the armrest the separated them so he could move closer to Combeferre. Combeferre, who was now taller than Enjolras, rested his head on Enjolras’ which was the perfect height for him to do so. Halfway through the movie Enjolras grabbed Combeferre’s hand.

This wasn’t necessarily unpleasant for Combeferre but he was slightly taken aback. They had held hands before but never in such a “normal” setting. The last time Combeferre could recall Enjolras being so affectionate was when his family was practically falling apart. Combeferre had since come to associate any kind of extreme emotion with an increasing need for affection when it came to Enjolras. But now they were in a quiet theater and Combeferre knew nothing extremely interesting or eventful had happened in Enjolras’ life recently so why was he being so affectionate?

As half of Combeferre’s brain tried to sort this out the other half had to admit it wasn’t bad. Enjolras’ presence wasn’t unpleasant and his hand in his own was rather comforting. He tried to shift his attention towards the movie.

About three fourths into the movie Enjolras glanced over at Combeferre. His friend had his thinking look on; he was staring intently at the screen with that little crinkle in his forehead and his mouth with twisted slightly as he bit his lip. Enjolras, in that moment, found himself seized with a surge of affectionate emotion for his friend. So he acted upon it. He leaned forward slightly and pressed a kiss to Combeferre’s cheek, though it ended up landing more on the corner of his mouth.

He didn’t flinch but Combeferre looked surprised and he turned to Enjolras, who was going a bit pink now, with raised eyebrows. He didn’t question it though; he merely looked quizzically at Enjolras for a second before turning back to the movie, settling back in. He shoved the millions of thoughts that were running in head away for another day.

The next day Enjolras apologized, even though Combeferre insisted he didn’t have to. Enjolras said he was just stressing about a physics project and even thought Combeferre knew he was lying he nodded and said to forget it. And they did.

The second time it was raining. Combeferre and Enjolras were sprawled across Combeferre’s bed, reading. Enjolras was lying on his back with his head on the pillows and Combeferre was on his stomach across the foot of the bed, their legs tangled where they met in the corner.

It was quiet, Combeferre had some classical piece playing softly from the stereo on his desk and the rain was loud enough to be heard but soft enough to not be annoying. The sounds of their breathing mingled into the other sounds and it wasn’t long before Combeferre fell asleep with his book still open in front of him, his glasses askew.

Enjolras glanced towards the foot of the bed as he heard Combeferre begin to snore gently. He smiled a little to himself, he knew Combeferre stayed up much too late most nights reading or working on some project with moths (he loved moths and Enjolras still didn’t understand why). Enjolras sat up and leaned forward, trying to jostle Combeferre’s legs which were on top of Enjolras’ own, as he carefully removed Combeferre’s glasses and put them on the bedside table.

He watched Combeferre snuffle around a bit before his breathing evened out again and he continued to sleep. He looked so calm when he slept and Enjolras wished he could remind the crazed, stressed, and wild Combeferre during finals that this calm and sleepy Combeferre existed.

It had been a few weeks since the movie theater kiss, as Enjolras was calling it in his mind, and neither of them had mentioned it again. Enjolras would be lying if he said he had not thought about the kiss or just kissing Combeferre again since then but he would never say that out loud. He was sure that his feelings were merely manifestations of the intense appreciation he felt for Combeferre’s companionship, nothing more. Even while most the boys Enjolras’ age had girlfriends now, Enjolras felt that a girl was the last thing he need in his life. Besides, he had enough to figure out with school and now with these new thoughts in his head of Combeferre… Combeferre kissing him back, Combeferre’s body pressed against his own, Combeferre panting into his mouth as Enjolras moved to kiss down his neck…

Enjolras shook his head as he tried not to drift off. He disentangled his limbs from Combeferre’s and got up, stretching. He grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and draped at carefully over Combeferre. Without thinking he leaned forward and gently kissed Combeferre’s forehead. Combeferre didn’t awaken but he stirred a little before sighing and quieting again. “You should get more rest, ‘Ferre.” Enjolras said quietly before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Nothing eventful happened again until finals were over and winter break was well underway. Enjolras’ family was throwing a rather large Christmas party and most of the small town was invited. Enjolras was grudgingly dressed in a white dress shirt and black tie that he had loosened to the point where he looked like a British schoolboy in detention. Combeferre and his family arrived with two bottles of dark wine and a third Combeferre concealed under his jacket. Enjolras smiled for the first time that night when Combeferre arrived and he grabbed his hand and pulled him upstairs as soon as he was in the door.

They popped the cork out of the greenish bottle and passed it back and forth as Enjolras complained about his parents’ bourgeois tendencies, the irony of the whole “holiday season,” and other injustices of the world. Combeferre listened, mostly, interjecting small observations occasionally but mostly just smiling at Enjolras’ increasing inability to form coherent sentences as the wine went to his head.

They stumbled down, laughing and leaning against each other drunkenly, at about 12am. Enjolras said there would be leftover food so they had come down in search something to take back up with them. The guests were all gone and Enjolras’ parents had already left for their room on the other side of the large house.

The house was quiet and their whispers sounded huge in the echoing space. They tried to stifle their laughter as they stopped to catch their breath in the doorway to the kitchen, whispering “shhhh, don’t wake them up!”

Enjolras glanced upwards and smiled hugely at Combeferre and pointed, “Look, ‘Ferre, mistletoe. I guess you have to kiss me now.”

Combeferre followed Enjolras’ pointing finger and looked up at the small sprig of leaves hanging from a red ribbon. “I’ve never kissed anyone before,” he said simply.

Enjolras edged closer to Combeferre who was leaning against the frame of the doorway. “It’s not that hard,” he felt like his heart was beating way too fast and he was having trouble finding words that wouldn’t sound stupid.

“Like you’ve had tons of experience,” Combeferre scoffed at him. He didn’t move as Enjolras leaned closer. They were face to face now, Enjolras tiptoeing slightly to meet Combeferre’s height.

“Hey now, I have some.” Enjolras defended himself, he grinned slyly before growing serious. He couldn’t help his eyes flitting down to Combeferre’s mouth which was always so serious. He had a serious desire to kiss all the seriousness and frowns away from that mouth, to kiss it until it was incapable of snide remarks or overly technical observations. “Will you let me kiss you, Combeferre?” He looked back up to meet Combeferre’s green-hazel gaze.

Combeferre felt his own breath catch as Enjolras looked at him with all his serious intensity. Enjolras had always had the kind of gaze that made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he was focused on you, but right now in this close space its intensity was magnified exponentially and Combeferre was having trouble catching his breath or finding any words fit for this situation. So he just nodded.

Enjolras moved slightly so he was even closer before he closed the space between them and pressed his mouth to Combeferre’s. It was tentative, for two as familiar with each other and Combeferre and Enjolras were this was completely new territory. Enjolras kissed him carefully, feeling Combeferre’s warmth beneath him was comforting and solid and he tried to kiss him as to convey those feelings of security. 

Meanwhile, Combeferre wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the kissing that was making him slightly dizzy, all he knew was this wasn’t altogether unpleasant but it was making the room spin. He kissed Enjolras back, matching him—as he did with everything—step for step. Despite the alcohol running in their veins it was like they were born to do this; it was easy, it was simple, it was comfort.

After what felt like too soon Enjolras was pulling back and Combeferre couldn’t help but try to follow, which made Enjolras smirk. “See?” he asked the still somewhat dazed Combeferre, “I am a pretty good kisser, huh?”

Combeferre shook his head, laughing a little nervously. He tried to grasp the situation, what had actually just happened? Had he just made out with his best friend under the mistletoe? He tried to stand up straighter and ended up falling on Enjolras a little. His friend laughed too, taking Combeferre’s hand and leading him away.

The next morning the two woke up sprawled on the couch in the living room and sunlight was streaming in through the two-story windows which revealed the new crisp layer of snow that had fallen the night before. Combeferre woke to Enjolras grumbling some profanities at the sunlight, groping for a blanket to cover his face with before he rolled over into Combeferre, moaning.

Combeferre felt like moaning too, his head _hurt._ It felt like there was cotton in his mouth and the light reflecting off the whiteness of the snow was positively painful. He blinked several times trying to remember how they had ended up in the living room. He didn’t remember much after arriving at the party last night and opening that bottle of wine but he had a nagging feeling that something important had happened.

With Enjolras was laying half on top of him, Combeferre tried to piece together the night after they had left Enjolras’ bedroom. The culprit in question was currently nestled comfortably against Combeferre’s side, one arm flung across Combeferre’s chest and his face against Combeferre’s neck. As Enjolras breathed Combeferre could feel his warm breath on his skin and he quickly was lulled back to sleep by the warm pressure of Enjolras pressed against him and his rhythmic breathing beside him.

When he awoke later it was much later. The sun was lower in the sky and Enjolras was gone. On the coffee table beside the couch neatly laid out there was a glass of water, two aspirin, his glasses, and a note. Combeferre sat up and his head swam dangerously. He blinked and reached for his glasses. He downed the aspirin with the water as he read the note:

_Ferre—_

_My parents made me go to church with them. We left you because you were sleeping really soundly and my mom thought you needed the rest. She’s right, you need more sleep. See yourself out. X_

_—E_

Combeferre sighed a little, feeling lonely in the huge, empty house. He gathered his things quickly and left, locking the house with the spare key under the fake rock in the yard, just as it began to snow again. It wasn’t until he was halfway home it all came rushing back to him.

Neither of them mentioned the mistletoe event after that. Sometimes Combeferre would have wandering thoughts of Enjolras kissing him, really kissing him, and have no clue where they’d come from. Sometimes he would just be with Enjolras and would be surged with an inexplicable wave of fondness for the budding revolutionary. Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night and ache with loneliness and nostalgia for a time that never existed.

But he tried to shove his meandering thoughts away and concentrate on finishing his senior year with good grades while still maintaining some semblance to a social human being. Meanwhile Enjolras was beginning to get angry again. He was getting into worse and worse fights with his parents, being an only child his parents had high expectations of his maintaining the family legacy. However, Enjolras wanted no part of what he called “that bourgeois affair.” He more often than not could be found at Combeferre’s ranting to no one as he paced around Combeferre’s room while Combeferre read or did homework or simply listened silently.

Enjolras seemed to be regressing back to his pre-Combeferre self; he was angry, impatient, and loud. Sometimes Combeferre wanted to punch him in the face and tell him to stop being so spoiled. Combeferre knew what it was like to live within a strict budget, how to feed a large family on four hundred dollars a month, how to pay the rent and other bills on social security checks. Enjolras’ temper at the injustice of the world was righteous, but it wasn’t firsthand, not yet.

During one particularly angry rant from Enjolras about his parents Combeferre couldn’t help but say quietly, “They’re just trying to make sure you do okay, Enjolras.”

“Why are they worrying about ME? They should be worrying about politics or parties or social movements! I don’t need anyone to look after me, I just need them to care about something important!”

“That’s easy to say when you’ve had it easy your whole life,” Combeferre tried not to say it but the words came out before he could stop them. He regretted it but at the same time felt it was his job to make Enjolras see his point. “It’s easy to not care about the future, I mean, when you’ve never known the fear of having nothing, Enjolras.”

“Are you saying I don’t know what I’m talking about?” Enjolras looked really cross now, his eyes were flashing and his jaw was set.

“No,” Combeferre stood from his desk chair and tried to catch Enjolras’ hand in an attempt to stop him from furiously pacing. Enjolras looked away and avoided Combeferre as he continued his angry walk. “All I’m saying is sometimes caring about the future and success isn’t silly or stupid; it’s survival. You’ve never had to worry about bills or taxes or money ruining your life so it’s easy for you to think it’s stupid.”

“Like you have?” Enjolras scoffed, “Come on, ‘Ferre, you’re the one who’s always going on about ‘to be free’ and all that. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

Combeferre’s face grew stern. “We both haven’t had it easy all the time, Enjolras.” He said quietly.

Enjolras looked as furious as ever, “Oh, right. I forgot. Your family is bigger than mine. Just because you have four older siblings and a grandma doesn’t mean you’re any worse off than me, ‘Ferre.” Enjolras practically spit the words at Combeferre.

Combeferre narrowed his eyes slightly; if Enjolras was going to be an asshole then he might as well give him what he deserved. “Oh, _sorry.”_ He said sarcastically. “I forgot living off welfare for six months and only being able to eat at school was the same as you having your stupid organic food with your babysitters while your parents were off at fancy dinner parties! I’m sorry your poor self is embarrassed by your parents actually giving a shit about your existence.”

“Shut up!” Enjolras shouted, he had stopped pacing and was facing Combeferre, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Or what? Gonna make your babysitter shut me up for you? You know what, Enjolras, you’re really full of it. You think you’re so great but you were born into all that prestige and expectations and you know it. And what’s even worse is you think you can come along and boss everyone around and make them feel like shit for having actual problems,” Combeferre scoffed as to not let the emotion he felt creep into his voice. He took the two short steps it took so he was in Enjolras’ face, still talking quietly but now letting some vehemence into his voice. “You know why you’re angry all the time, Enjolras? I think you’re angry because you know that really you’re just a spoiled kid who wants to be different than all the other spoiled kids but doesn’t know how so he pretends to be angry at the world when really he’s just angry at himself.”

He thought Enjolras was going to hit him. He braced himself for a punch or smack across the face. But Enjolras just stood still before him, looking slightly hurt but nevertheless as angry and intrepid as ever. Still mad, Combeferre stood there dumbly, trying to figure out what was supposed to happen next. He hadn’t meant the words he’d said, not really. Not like that. But still, Enjolras was being an ass and someone needed to keep him in line.

As Enjolras’ burning gaze met Combeferre’s steely one the two felt the familiar sense of significance that they often felt together. Like their whole lives had lead up to this moment, to meeting each other. They were and would always be like this, in this life and the next. Two parts of a complex and never ending whole. Before Combeferre could even think Enjolras was moving forward and kissing him. Combeferre felt Enjolras’ hands on his face and without realizing found himself kissing back, his own hands finding Enjolras’ waist, bringing him closer.

This was not like the mistletoe kiss, or how Combeferre remembered it. This kiss was angry, searching, hungry, and _dirty._ And Combeferre heard himself whimper a little into Enjolras’ mouth which only encouraged the advances of the aforementioned. Enjolras was not shy this time; he was practically shoving Combeferre backwards as he kissed him roughly, his hands going to Combeferre’s tucked in shirt, pulling it up so he could get his hands on Combeferre’s skin. He could feel his glasses pinching the bridge of his nose and somewhere in his brain he heard the small thought that told him he should take them off but he couldn’t really be bothered to do so at the moment.

Combeferre felt the back of his knees hit the bed and with a final shove from Enjolras he fell backwards onto the mattress. Before the world could realign itself to his new vertigo Enjolras was on top of him; his hands under Combeferre’s shirt, his mouth going to Combeferre’s neck and Combeferre gasped a little as Enjolras sucked on the soft skin hard enough to make sure he left a mark.

This time there was no wine deadening their senses or late night haze to confuse them. There was no denying what was happening since both of them were very clearly in fully aware and in control of their actions. Without the alcohol there was only the loud breathing and the feeling of complete abandon as Enjolras hungrily attacked and Combeferre obliged, sighing into his mouth.

What felt like seconds and years later they both heard the sound of the door downstairs slamming in the same instance. They sat up, Enjolras was still on Combeferre’s lap while Combeferre tried to peer through his open door—he never closed his door—down the hallway.

“Hello? You ready to go, ‘Ferre? Dad’s waiting in the car.” A voice called from downstairs.

“Shit,” Combeferre said. He shoved Enjolras off his lap to surprisingly little protest. “I forgot I have to go to this thing with my dad, uh, I’ll see you later.” He ran around collecting his book bag and shoes, trying to smooth his hair and tuck back in his shirt all at the same time. Enjolras watched him silently.

Before he left he turned around, “Why do I feel like that just happened so you wouldn’t have to apologize?” He hadn’t realized until then that he was still mad at Enjolras. Mad at him for giving him all these feelings, mad at him for being so damn incorrigible, mad at him for being such an ass. “Fine. Don’t say anything, then. Goodbye, Enjolras.” He left before Enjolras could speak or he went back and apologized. It was always him fixing all Enjolras’ problems and it was time Enjolras learned one on his own.

It had been their first real fight. A fight more than a squabble or debate that ended badly. Combeferre didn’t hear from Enjolras for weeks. Spring was dumping buckets of rain and he was stuck inside most days after school but now Enjolras wasn’t there to keep him company. He realized he missed Enjolras terribly but he wasn’t going to apologize. He was going to wait for Enjolras to get over his damn pride and realize he was wrong for once.

Combeferre couldn’t help but expect his phone to ring with Enjolras’ ringtone and have him apologize for being a dick. But it didn’t and he didn’t. Combeferre couldn’t help but feel like it was partly his fault he’d said some terrible things too after all. But nothing could change that now, Combeferre tended to think of the future as opposed to dwelling on the past so he continued to hope.

It wasn’t until three weeks after the incident that Combeferre’s doorbell rang. He ignored it and made his sister get it. “It’s for you, ‘Ferre.” She said and he was confused until he went to the door.

Enjolras. Dripping wet from the rain he had obviously just run through. And he was holding something behind his back. Combeferre tried to crane his neck to see but Enjolras edged away so he couldn’t’ see. “Hi,” he said, he smiled nervously. How unlike him, Combeferre thought, the great Enjolras suffering from nerves like everyone else.

Combeferre quirked an eyebrow, “bit wet, eh?” He looked expectantly at Enjolras. Waiting.

“Uh, just a bit. You know.” Enjolras shuffled around a bit before producing what he hid behind his back: a wilted and dripping bunch of flowers. “Um, these are for you. Also I would like to apologize for being a massive ass hat.”

“About time.” He noted wryly.

“Hey,” Enjolras protested, “I’m trying okay. Give me some credit. Um. Also I think I would like to tell you that I have been a huge dick mainly because I have a lot of feelings about things, namely you, and I didn’t know how to articulate them in ways other than getting mad about kissing you just because I want to do that a lot more.”

“Oh. Okay.” Combeferre was quiet. “Well thank you, for apologizing.” He didn’t know what else to say so he kept quiet. What was he supposed to say? That he liked kissing Enjolras too? That things could get better again? That he loved Enjolras too?

Enjolras looked dejected. But he hid it well. Unfortunately for him, Combeferre could read Enjolras like a book. But before Combeferre could say anything Enjolras spoke again, “Don’t say anything, okay? I just want you to hear me out, I like being your friend, Combeferre, I really do. I love it, okay. But I also think I love you a little, er, a lot.” The words came out too fast, tripping over each other in Enjolras’ mouth. This was not like him at all. “Anyway, I’m really sorry I’ve been a huge pain lately—Jehan says I’m just frustrated. But I would like you to know even if you do not return said uh desire to kiss all the time I would like to be your friend again, please.”

Combeferre bit his lip. Enjolras looked like a wet puppy, all bedraggled and imploring. Yet there was still that Enjolras-like fire somewhere inside him and Combeferre felt warm again now that he was here. “I will accept your flowers, apology, and think about what you said.” He said and he grinned as the soaking wet boy lit up.

“Thank you,” Enjolras said. And he meant it. It was all that needed saying. Thank you for putting up with me, thank you for giving me another chance, thank you for not giving up, thank you for being my other half even if you won’t make out with me. He pressed the flowers into Combeferre’s hands and quickly kissed him on the cheek, one last time just in case.

“Don’t push your luck,” Combeferre said but he was smiling.

The next day the rain had stopped and the sun was weakly shining again. Combeferre woke to the usual nothing texts from Enjolras he hadn’t known he’d missed until now:

**There’s no milk…**

**Why don’t I have milk?**

**Where’s the milk???**

**All I wanted was cereal.**

**I am sad.**

**The world is cruel, ‘Ferre.**

They used to go on like this for hours. When Combeferre and Enjolras didn’t feel like talking they texted. It had become their second form of communication. Combeferre smiled to himself as he scrolled through the messages. Things finally seemed to be falling back into place. But now Combeferre wasn’t so sure if he actually wanted it to.

Of course he knew he and Enjolras would always come back to each other in the end. In one form or another they would be together. He kind of hated it, the thought that he wasn’t with Enjolras because he wanted to be but because of some divine intervention. But they would continually fall back together, Combeferre was sure of it. So what was he supposed to do now? Let Enjolras know their friendship wasn’t, and never would be, over? Tell him he could kiss Combeferre whenever he wanted? Tell him to fuck off until he worked out his own messy feelings?

He laid in bed thinking for a while longer before sitting up. It was Saturday. They were going to graduate in a few weeks. It would all be over soon. Combeferre decided to go to Enjolras’. He stopped by his fridge to grab a quart of milk.

When he knocked on the door Enjolras opened it, already smiling. “When did you start knocking, ‘Ferre?” Enjolras asked looking bemused and slightly worried.

“Here,” Combeferre held out the milk. “I got your pleas for help.”

“Oh thanks.” Enjolras took it. “No one’s home. Come in, come in. I don’t know why you need someone to tell you now.” He walked away towards the kitchen, leaving Combeferre standing at the open door.

Combeferre didn’t know why he was suddenly such a stranger in his best friend’s house. It hurt a little that something so familiar and comforting had suddenly become so distant and unwelcoming.  He resented his decision to come here already. But took a breath and went inside, closing the door behind him.

He followed Enjolras down the familiar hallway into the kitchen, pointedly ignoring the doorway that had hosted the mistletoe. He sat awkwardly on a barstool as Enjolras made a bowl of cereal for himself with the milk. He put a bowl in front of Combeferre without asking.

The heavy silence weighed on them as Enjolras came to sit next to Combeferre to eat.

“I hate this,” Combeferre said finally.

Enjolras was silent. After a moment he said, “Nothing has to change, you know.”

“I think it already has,” Combeferre said looking down at his cereal. He didn’t make a move to eat it.

“We’ll always fall back, though. You know that, Combeferre. We always do.” Enjolras was looking intently at him now, his cereal forgotten.

“I know,” Combeferre felt sad. Like something was ending, though he didn’t know why.

Enjolras was quiet again. After a minute he reached instinctively for Combeferre’s hand, he stopped himself. “Sorry,” he muttered, looking away.

It was Combeferre’s turn to look up, Enjolras was looking at his hands which were folded neatly in his lap. Before he could stop himself he heard himself say, “it’s not just you , you know.”

Enjolras looked up and met his gaze. “What?”

Combeferre spun his stool so he was facing Enjolras. His knees pressed against Enjolras’. For the first time all day it felt familiar. He smiled a little, “For someone so smart you sure are stupid.”

Enjolras looked wary. He opened his mouth no doubt to make a smart comment and Combeferre suddenly just wanted him to shut up. So he leaned forward and kissed Enjolras on the mouth, silencing him. Even though it was a slight surprise for both of them, he felt Enjolras relax almost instantly and with a sigh, begin to lean closer. Combeferre felt once again that familiar warmth coming from Enjolras and finally felt like they were coming back together at last.

**Author's Note:**

> also im sorry i switch POVs basically halfway through....
> 
> hope you enjoyed nevertheless


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